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I’ve been thinking about arguments lately. Mostly I’ve been thinking about how horribly, tremendously, comically bad we are at arguing. Americans, I mean. We do so many things so well. The moon? Yeah, let’s go there. Coca Cola? Take that, communists! Adirondack chairs? Those are awesome. Then we are so magnificently, grandly, explosively bad at other things. Overstuffed camouflage furniture comes to mind. Why did that need to happen? My brother-in-law lives in The Hague. I can just about promise none of his neighbors have a camouflage recliner that holds beer, four remote controls, and a deep freeze. Although that’s probably because it’s really hard to ride a bike from Trendhopper back home with a giant microfiber marshmallow strapped to your back fender.

I did a really stupid thing last night. I read comments on a piece that my hometown news station ran about a candidate for county clerk pulling out of the race because he doesn’t want to give marriage licences to the LGBT community. One comment caught my eye because it started, “Is it just me, or…” True fact: anytime a sentence starts with that line, yes. It’s just you. I’m not excluding myself. “Is it just me, or does my kitchen look spotless?” Yup. Just me. Me and my delusions. We’re a happy family.

One of my favorite chestnuts has always been the slippery slope fallacy. It’s like that book If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. If you give a mouse a cookie, he will burn down your house, rape your dog, and steal your identity. Or something like that. I haven’t read the book in a long time. The “No REAL Christian” argument is just getting pathetic. No REAL Christian could believe that gay folks marrying each other, having equal rights, raising families, paying taxes, getting life insurance, and generally behaving like normal people could be what God wants. That then begs the question don’t we know God says being gay is wrong because God said so in the Bible and that’s the word of God? BUT if I say something like, oh, you get to believe whatever you want, but we’re talking about policy not religion, I am a sinner. Ergo, forthwith, and heretofore, I cannot POSSIBLY have a valid argument because I don’t go to church regularly/take the Lord’s name in vain/occasionally speed/insert other infraction here. AND FURTHER, you’re ugly and your mother dresses you funny. Ad hominem…aaaand…scene.

Irrational arguments are a thing. We all make them. But we need to keep them among friends, not when deciding policy. There’s a scene in the classic movie Legally Blonde where Holland Taylor discusses Aristotle’s maxim, “The law is reason, free from passion.” Y’all it’s hard not to get all riled up about something you believe in passionately. You should hear Himself talk about his favorite hat. I can give you 492 reason pants are evil. And while I want to tell people who rally against GMOs that they are poopy heads, I go with, “First, tell me what you mean by GMO,” because insulin is a GMO and I don’t think you want to take away a diabetic’s medicine. Or maybe you do. In which case you ARE a poopy head.

We are starting to confuse shutting down an argument with winning one. Well, that’s just my opinion. I would like that phrase stricken from our collective discourse. You didn’t make a point by saying it’s your opinion. And opinions are different than facts.

*Blue is a color. That is fact.

*Blue is the best color. That is opinion.

*Blue sports drinks are a conspiracy between Monsanto and Proctor and Gamble to get us addicted to trimonosodiumglyotholateiseum which then makes our babies autistic and is responsible for the popularity of the Kardashians. That right there is some made-up bullshit. And while it’s nice to have something to blame for the Kardashians, that’s not it. And following that up with WELL, THAT’S MY OPINION does not make it any less bullshitty.

*Navy pumps for women are declining in popularity. Global temperatures are rising. The decline in navy footwear is causing global warming. THAT’S MY OPINION. ARE YOU SAYING MY OPINION IS WRONG?? I GET TO HAVE MY OWN OPINIONS. YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME.

I also am really over the whole this <insert product here> is full of chemicals! It will kill you! You need something natural! You know what’s natural? Sharks, bears, poison ivy, puffer fish, nightshade, and poke berries. They can all kill you. Just because something was grown out of dirt doesn’t make it safe anymore than creating something in a lab makes it dangerous.

Opinions are not fact. Legalizing marijuana will not make us all heroin addicts. Pharmaceuticals aren’t bad because they are made in labs. Just because I once answered a math question wrong doesn’t mean I can’t do math at all. Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t make it false. I don’t understand Javascript, but that doesn’t mean it’s not powering this very website right now. (I do not know if it is powering this very website right now. I just said I don’t understand Java.)

Now, you must excuse me. I’m feeling a little tired so I’m going to ingest some coffea liberica mixed with dihyrdogen monoxide and possibly a prunus persica. I have to be careful because the pit of the prunus persica contains cyanide. In fact, I better eat two before they get banned.

Explain to me HOW IS THIS NOT BIG GOVERNMENT? You don’t want regulation of oil companies. You don’t want the government telling companies they have to pay for their employees’ whore pills, but this? This magnificent pile of horse excrement is just dandy? From thinkprogress.org:

A Republican lawmaker in Montana wants to prevent women from wearing leggings as pants, and he hopes that his proposed bill to strengthen the state’s indecent exposure law will be a step in that direction.

This week, State Rep. David Moore (R) introduced House Bill 365, which would outlaw “any device, costume, or covering that gives the appearance of or simulates the genitals, pubic hair, anus region, or pubic hair region.” Under that legislative language, “tight-fitting beige clothing” would likely be banned, according to the local lawmaker.

The Billings Gazette reports that Moore would have preferred to ban yoga pants of all colors; he favors giving the cops the power to arrest people for wearing “provocative” clothing. But HB 365 stops short of that because Moore wasn’t sure whether it would be possible for police to enforce a broader ban.

So.

It’s okay because it’s the state and not the federals? It’s okay because otherwise women might want to dress the way we damn well please even if it’s beyond the scope of taste, reason, and comfort? Men are giant Penis Beasts who can’t control themselves? I’m not sure what we’re about here with the dress codes. People get mad at people whose clothes are too tight, but also mad if they’re too baggy. Take that link if only because the Ocala, FL councilwoman who backs the ban has this to say, “Everyone’s saying I’m targeting young black men…I’m black. I’ve been black for a long time, why would I be targeting black men?” I love everything about that statement. The ridiculous logic. The fact one thing has nothing to do with the other. The idea she may have been born Korean.

Me? I got no issue feeling safe around a dude whose pants are literally around his ankles. What’s he going to do? I mean, he could trip on me to death. And while I wholeheartedly agree that leggings are not pants (FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLY, LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS), just ask any mother of a middle-schooler: You cannot legislate taste.

I am constantly amazed at the way the faux conservative’s mind works. He believes in personal responsibility, goddammit. But can’t be trusted around women in Lycra. Government can’t tell him where he can pray, but we should lock up Muslims. Laws take away our freedoms, but we should outlaw nipples in public. Even when they are being used for their actual purpose because BOOBIES!

I’m just curious. How will this impact ski pants? Isn’t skiing kind of important for the Montana economy? And can’t those things get a little tight?

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I’ll just let the narrative of where I’ve been for almost a year unfold on its own. In its own time and way. I’ll briefly say that I stopped reading pretty much anything online except anything about hilarious autocorrect incidents. I don’t care how dumb they are, I love that stuff. I made a pledge not to read anything that baited me with CLICK HERE TO SEE WHAT SHE DID or LEARN THIS ONE WEIRD TRICK. That cut down on about 80% of my internet time. I didn’t totally quit Facebook, but I walked out on Twitter. I wish I could say I went out and got a life, but if you’ve read this blog at all you know that requires pants. And you’ll know how I feel about pants.

Let me also tell you this up front. I will not be talking about vaccinations. I’m not going down that rabbit hole. I’m not going to talk about how completely selfish, ignorant, fatuous, narcissistic, narrow-minded, and totally asshatted it is not to vaccinate/immunize your children. Nope. Go somewhere else for that. Like here, for example.

What I WILL discuss with impunity is 50 Shades. Because that shit is hysterical. I will also discuss house cleaning, periods, marriages, abortion, gays, straights, blacks, whites, other regional person shades, my parents, my husband (THE SAINT, but no longer The Ham King), the birds in my backyard, my crazy friends, I’d talk about my sane friends if I had any, underwear and lack thereof, my discovery of Outlander, text messages from my mother, the crickets in our storage closet, what I learned from not watching news regularly, and my need of suggestions for a really good concealer and a conditioner that doesn’t smell like an overworked stripper dipped in coconut car freshener.

I’m also taking suggestions about what animal, vegetable, or mineral I should replace the YAAT bird with. Or if I should replace it at all. If I shouldn’t then he or she needs a name, so I’m open to that as well. Standard Life Coach will be making an appearance, so email your questions using the contact form on this page.

Several of you have been kind enough to ask after my imaginary twins Sizzlene and Formicadinette. Sadly, their birth mother who lives in one of those square states has regained custody of them after realizing their earning potential in the child beauty pageant business and Formicadinette’s ability to make a casserole from little more than and can of creamed corn and Velveeta. Since the are imaginary, they will never grow older and can make quite a killing off the Babee Lil’ Miss Shiny Eyelash Glamour Tot pageant circuit. I’m happy for them, obviously. And, quite frankly, Sizzlene’s inability to master the twirl-n-curtsy was really getting on my nerves. For those of you concerned about The Ham King’s sanity, I’m happy to report that he still would like a life-size Cylon Centurion and enjoys a good hat. And he’s still practiced in the art of diplomacy, but he is no longer The Ham King. I suppose he is now The Nonmetallic Thermal And Acoustical Insulation Production King, but that just doesn’t have the same ring to it. I am extremely happy in his change of kingdoms, as is he.

I was going to finish this post up and go eat delicious homemade chocolate chip and pecan cookies, but I can’t make the damn things. I can’t make chocolate chip cookies. I can make a brown sugar cookie that looks like it should be on the cover of a baking magazine and tastes like eight kinds of heaven, but my chocolate chip cookies ALWAYS come out too cake-like. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. But that does mean I have an entire mixing bowl of cookie dough. So there’s that. Any ideas on why EVERY cookie recipe and technique I use comes out wrong would be greatly appreciated. Could it be I’m getting the sugars and butter too fluffy? Maybe it’s my ass’s way of telling me to slow down with the cookies? Whatever, there are no good cookies and no Cheetos in the house, so I haz a sad.

If you are a new reader, welcome. If you are a returning reader, thank you. I shall endeavor to deserve your time. Just kidding. Ima totally waste it and make you have to read Chekhov to get your IQ back up.

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You know how when a dog gets all in a skunk’s business you’re supposed to bathe him in tomato juice? It doesn’t work on humans.

PARTICULARLY WHEN IT’S SPICY V8 JUICE.

Which reminds me of this time I was at the beach and our neighbor heard that meat tenderizer is good for jellyfish stings so she kept some in her bag. So I get stung by this whale of a jellyfish, come running out of the water, she comes flying towards me and starts liberally dousing me with…wait for it…garlic salt.

Come to think of it, what is it with me and food on my body in emergency situations?

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Yes, I’ve been off social media for a while. Didn’t notice? Congratulations, YOU have a life.

Because I have some friends who are having weird horrible days today, let me just tell you that NOT ONLY did I burst into tears in the Auto Zone parking lot, I had to use Fix-A-Flat and CANNOT get the stench off me. I have showered AND rubbed my hands with alcohol. I have just washed my hands with vanilla extract. Now I am high and smell like a delightful baked treat.

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When did we stop giving and start gifting? Were we gifting before 2009? Was it before or after we turned “friend” into a verb? I can’t remember. I just know it drives me nuts, this gifting.

My Facebook feed has become populated with people who were gifted. And I don’t mean like they can do long division in their heads or could play Chopin in kindergarten (these two feats carry equal weight in my world). One person gushed about how she was gifted a beautiful peace lily. Nice. One woman had been gifted some homemade preserves. I like preserves. One woman was gifted a repurposed…you know what? It doesn’t matter a repurposed what. The fact “gifted” and “repurposed” were used in the same sentence by someone not demonstrating cheap summer crafts with bendy straws on the Today show was enough to make me remove her from my cocktail party list. (NOTE: My cocktail party list is totally fictional. Having a cocktail party would involve people. And cleaning the 472 cases of sparkling water and Dr. Pepper out of the dining room.)

When one gifts rather than gives, one makes it all about the giver. The recipient is just an innocent bystander forced to accept a vintage crying clown rendered in porcelain because it was fabulously kitschy. Had the recipient been given the sad clown, she might have thought, “Wow. My friend saw this and thought of me. She must have remembered the conversation we had about my Aunt Mitty-June who collected porcelain clowns and how as a child I was simultaneously fascinated and petrified by them.” When the same friend is gifted, the conversation is more like the giver thinking, “I remember a story of something about clowns scaring the crap out of her. I’ll give her this Pagliacci figurine to show her I’m both cultured and an active listener. Plus no one else will be in on the joke so I’ll get to tell the whole story at the party.” Ninety-five percent of all items bought to be gifted are bought at Anthropologie. True fact.

Gifting is selfish. Gifting is done by people who spend too much time on Pinterest and believe every occasion must be marked by giving out personalized cupcakes and renting a photo booth. If you’re being gifted, I can just about guarantee it’s by someone who doesn’t know how to change a tire. I have a firm policy of not making friends with anyone who can’t change a tire. It’s like trusting someone who has no tools. HOW CAN YOU BE FRIENDS WITH THAT PERSON? Who doesn’t need a screwdriver? Gifting is trendy. Gifting is the friend who wears a seersucker shorts suit and gold platform wedges. Giving is your friend who would smack you upside the head because a grown-ass, 45-year-old woman should know better.

It might be better to give than to receive. It certainly is if you’re on the receiving end of a set of placemats repurposed from your friend’s children’s juice box straws.

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Ed: Okay, let’s get started. From our focus groups we know a few things. One, people have totally not noticed we don’t use the Pizza Table–or as some folks call it, the Pizza Saver–in the center of our pies anymore. Apparently we have been doing a first-rate job of keeping the extra cheese off the lids these days. Two, we need more products that use “zilla” somehow in the name. Three, dang it all. These people are crazy about the bread, I tell ya.

Ed: Yes, exactly. We had a great synergy going with that campaign. So let’s just get crazy. Let’s push the envelope, do a little blue sky thinking, throw some ideas on the wall and see what sticks, okay?

Reese: You know, my wife and I went to this Oriental place and they had these little boxes that were compartmentalized like, you know, like a Whitman’s Sampler almost. Each one had a different item. Of course, I’m not like Liz. I fish with bait, I don’t eat it! (Pauses to enjoy hearty chuckles) But I’m wondering if we can’t use something like that?

Bill: Now, that’s not a bad idea. You know, at my house no one ever wants the same thing. And Angie, bless her, always wants something healthy like pasta. I say the horse is out of the barn on that one, if you know what I mean! (Pauses to enjoy hearty chuckles) Anyway, we could let our customers choose maybe four items to go in a box like at that Oriental place.

Ed: I like it! We could give them a choice of our Three-Cheese Vegetarian Kream Sauce Side Pasta or our Meatzapalooza Kream Sauce Monster Lite Side Stuffed Shells for those ladies who like the pasta. Then they can choose one from our Thick Thick Thick Monster SaltedButterGarlicPowder Crust Pizza Collection

Bill: Good one! Then add our new Cinnamon Sugar Chocolate Honey Slathered Dipping Apple Dessert Stixx, and if they want to make it a Winning Family Dinner Nite Combination, add two two-liter bottles of our new private brand Suk-It-Down-Yer-Gullet Soda. And that way Mom can get her diet soda to watch that figure…get bigger and bigger!! (Pauses for hearty chuckles)

Ed: Maybe we should give them a choice of two Stixx? Oh, I know. We can add that as an upsale to the WFDN Combo. I’m telling you, our customers love the carbs. So we’ll keep punching out–and bringing in–the dough! (Hearty chuckles ensue without pause)

Reese: And I think this is a good time to do the promotion with that kids’ diabetes group that’s been nagging us. Our customers can add a dollar on to the price of our…wait, what are we calling this?

Bill: Family Exxxtravaganza Combo Box Pizzilla Flavorpocolypse!

Ed: And a great value at only $19.99! And that charity tie-in is publicity gold. Man, sick kids. Makes you wonder if their parents ever pay attention to what the little guys are sticking down their gullets. Next item of business is our new home video game station/internet order station.

Note: This is the post I had ready to go before I had to do battle with Batrodent and his grappling gun who’s up in my rafters eating insulation and fighting crime. Also, do not take this as total disdain of the chain pizza restaurant industry. Sometimes you just gotta have that salty greasy goodness.